


5 Things Sollux Likes About Earth

by let2gotwoapplebee2



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-18
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 06:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let2gotwoapplebee2/pseuds/let2gotwoapplebee2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An examination of the five things Sollux particularly likes about life on Earth after Sgrub.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

A phone vibrates in his pocket, ignored. It’s definitely KK and Sollux definitely cannot be bothered to give a shit about whatever romcom Karkat is almost certainly reacting to. Needle fingers dig through a mustard yellow canvas bag. Thin lips twiddle a cigarette and swears fall out on either side of it.

“Fuck shit damn fuck titth fuck YETH!”

Shoulders hunch and a clever thumb ratchets a wheel. A long, bony hand habitually shields from a nonexistent wind.

Light. Puff puff. Sigh.

Sollux takes a long drag off his cigarette. His shoulders slump and his rail body leans against the tree he’d forgotten was behind him. He tilts his head back and pushes a column of smoke into the sky. He takes his next drag, less needy and more sensuous. He breathes deeply, savoring the burn in his lungs the same way he would the burn in his throat later when drinking bourbon with Dave. This time, he exhales lightly, giving the smoke only the gentlest push as it falls out of his mouth. He puts the cigarette back in his mouth to idly puff before returning his attention to the phone in his pocket that never really stopped buzzing.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 9:47 --  
CG: HEY FUCKTWAT  
CG: GUESS THE FUCK WHAT  
CG: WE ARE GOING TO WATCH HUMAN HITCH TOGETHER  
CG: HUMAN WILL SMITH IS ALMOST AS MASTERFUL AS TROLL WILL SMITH  
CG: I KNOW YOU THINK ROMCOMS ARE BULLSHIT BUT GUESS THE FUCK WHAT  
CG: I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT  
CG: YOU DO NOT GET A MOTHERFUCKING CHOICE IN THIS MOTHERFUCKING MATTER  
CG: I CAN ALREADY TELL HOW FLOURFLAT FLIPPING THRILLED YOU ARE  
CG: HEY FUCKWIT  
CG: YOU BETTER NOT BE SUCKING FACE RIGHT NOW  
CG: IF YOU ARE IGNORING ME SO THAT YOUR BULGE ACTUALLY SEES THE LIGHT OF DAY THEN YOU ARE THE WORST FRIEND EVER  
CG: I AM MAKING PLANS WITH YOU ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE FUCKING IMPORTANT AND YOU FUCKING CAN’T BE FUCKING BOTHERED TO STOP THINKING ABOUT PAILS  
CG: OR I BET YOU’RE TAKING COOL KID LESSONS FROM THE INSUFFERABLE PRICK  
CG: THAT WAS YOUR NAME FOR HIM REMEMBER?  
CG: AS IN YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO FUCKING HATE HIM YOU MORONIC BULGELICKER  
CG: WHY IN THE ARMPIT CHAFING FUCK DID YOU DECIDE TO LIVE WITH HIM AGAIN?  
CG: FOR FUCKS SAKE SURELY YOU MUST BE AT HIS DAMNED THROAT AT ALL HOURS  
CG: AND YOU ARE DEFINITELY FUCKING IGNORING ME YOU MANIC DEPRESSIVE CANCER SUCKING BITCH  
CG: FUCK  
CG: AND ALSO  
CG: YOU  
TA: hey calm your tiit2. 2ure. we’ll fuckiing watch human hiitch look how many fuck2 ii give. now let me 2uck my cancer iin peace.  
\--carcinoGeneticist ceased trolling twinArmageddons—

Huh. Guess he’s satisfied.

“Hey Twiggy,” a voice from overhead calls, “When you’re done expediting your death, it’s your turn to wash dishes.”

“Ath hole, you never wash disheth,” Sollux puffs, lisp exaggerated by his lips clinging to the cigarette.

“Ask me if I give a fuck. Deal’s a goddamn deal.”

An emphatic phalange sings Sollux’s feelings on the matter and a mop of strawberry blonde retreats into a 5th story window. Sollux scowls and takes another painfully long drag before remembering that he agreed on Tuesday to be on dish duty until he’s paid Dave back for all of the expensive-ass bourbon he keeps buying, per Sollux’s request. The smoke comes out in a coughing chuckle as he decides that dishes forever is worth the top shelf shit Dave buys. He blithely puffs the rest of the cigarette away, pondering what else he could do to get Dave to buy him things.  
Sollux likes cigarettes.


	2. Two

A phone vibrates in his bag, ignored. It’s definitely Dave and Sollux definitely cannot be bothered to give a shit about whatever derision Dave is almost certainly dealing him for spending his Friday evening in an art museum. Needle fingers loosen a red and blue hand-knit scarf. Thin lips part to let an amazed sigh out between them.

Alternia didn’t really have too many pretty things. If it wasn’t moving, if it wasn’t a violent war portrait, if it wasn’t the Condesce’s propaganda, if it wasn't fucking hoofbeast porn it really hadn’t had a place in the violent troll culture. The things he surrounds himself with now are soft and fragile and non-functioning and

Beautiful.

He knows the paintings and the sculptures and the photographs. He feels the rage, the emptiness, the joy, the stupid human love, the peace. He is spending more and more time in the museum as his time stuck on Earth progresses. He studies for his exams with the Romanticist portraits. He writes essays among the statuary. He perfects his sound designs amongst the abstract works. Sollux decides that, with his next paycheck, he’s buying art for the apartment. It’s not like it would be spent on bourbon. A smirk yanks at the right corner of his mouth and he decides to spare a moment for the ass hole he’ll be playing interior designer for.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 8:23 --  
TG: hey  
TG: you gonna be home for dinner  
TG: because youre doing dishes regardless  
TG: oh right  
TG: youre being a sensitive little fuck and prancing around the art museum  
TG: be careful  
TG: the lifetime channel might be secretly filming you for stock footage of a sensitive weeping bitch for all their future movies  
TG: why the fuck do you spend so much time in the abstract stuff  
TG: that shit looks like when i try and my theory homework when im drunk  
TG: if you want crazy ass scribbles you can sell your fucking year long membership and buy me some tequila and paint  
TA: hey 2hiithead look2 liike you’re diiniing alone. ii’m gettiing coffee and a paniinii or 2ome 2hiit when ii’m done here though, iif you’d liike two joiin me.  
TG: coffee?  
TG: and a panini?  
TG: seriously sol you can tell me if youre gay  
TG: ill still accept you and let you live in my apartment  
TG: its not like id be surprised  
TA: oh my god you mii2erable a22hat 2hut up  
TA: liikiing art and coffee and paniinii doe2n’t make me gay  
TA: rationally, iif iit make2 me anythiing, iit make2 me a2exual or paniinii2exual or 2omethiing  
TA: you’re 2uch a douce 2ometiime2  
TG: fuckin great  
TG: my roommate wants to fuck sandwiches  
TG: gonna go die now  
TG: ill just hang myself from our nonexistent chandelier  
TG: in the kitchen so you dont keep up the sandwich fuckery once im gone  
TG: and fuck you I wont leave you a penny for the rent  
TA: je2u2 fuck kk wa2 riight. how do ii even fuckiing put up wiith you. fuck off ii wa2 even fuckiing happy. ii’m ju2t gonna let you go and go back two actually fuckiing 2miiliing.  
TA: don’t waiit up for me twoniight. ii doubt ii’m comiing home.  
TG: woah wait hey  
TG: im just shitting you  
TG: i dont legitimately think you want to fuck sandwiches  
TG: where are you getting dinner  
TG: hey answer me  
TG: shit ill pay ok  
TG: jesus sol dont be mad i was fucking joking  
TA: 2ediicii’2 by the mu2eum  
TA: ii’ll be there at 10:00  
TA: iif you 2tand me up ii  
TA: ju2t be there  
TG: i may be a crass dude but i at least have enough class not to stand my date up  
TG: see you at sedicis at 10  
\-- turntechGodhead[TG] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 8:56--

Sollux permits himself a small smile. He is one of the few beings in existence able to generate guilt in Dave Strider. A visit to the museum, free dinner, and a high chance of booze upon his return home tug his smile wider. He smiles up at his portrait friend overhead and shuffles to the baroque hall, pocketing his phone. This is going to be a good night.  
Sollux likes art.


	3. Three

A phone vibrates in the middle seat of Dave’s shitty truck, ignored. It’s definitely Eridan and Sollux cannot be bothered to give a shit about his blackrom advances at the moment. Needle fingers wring the radio’s volume knob close to its highest setting. Thin lips pull apart into a wide open grin and a bifurcated tongue slides out along the lower.

“Unf, Dave why do you hiide thith shit from mee?”

His chest pulses to the music. His chin jerks, then tilts back, seeming to ride the wobs.

“I don’t hide it from you, you shit, you just never go to my gigs. I play it there.”

“Tho thart playing it around the houthe-“

“Calling where we live anything other than “apartment” or “shithole” is depressingly optimistic.”

“Fine, then thtart playing it around the shit hole. Now shut up. I’m enjoying it.”

Dave is doing an admirable job of keeping his eyes on the road, despite having his delicious, gold digging roommate in the seat next to him, apparently attempting to fellate the music. The nihilistic bastard seems to exist solely in Strider’s soft spot and is apparently composed only of his kinks. Add the fact that the little shit goes to the club to hear his gigs and leaves with someone different every time-

Someone who is never Dave-

Makes him a tempting slice of adventure-loving ass. He’s an old, gentle, and wise soul. He’s the only one who actively challenges Dave’s cool status, who pushes him to broaden and improve and train. But he is Dave’s roommate. And a miserable mooch. Dave is almost certain that he’d manage to trade sex for rent if they ever fell in bed together. He permits himself a frown before the bass drops and Sollux lets out a throaty groan that Dave feels from his nape to his root. He’s lucky Sollux has cranked the volume or he would’ve heard the ever-placid Cool Kid’s breath hitch.

“Gooogg, Dave. Thith ith deliciouth. Do you have mooore?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Shit fuck, he cannot possibly in this moment be begging Dave for more. Dave risks another sideways glance and regrets it. Sollux’s head is thrown back against the seat, grinning, with his freak tongue lolling out. His chest is still heaving and pulsing through the modulations, but he looks uncomfortably engaged in the music. Strider catches a glimpse of the glorious bastard’s hips rolling and it’s all over.

He slaps the stereo’s power button and veers into the nearest gas station.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

“Don’t fuckin worry about it,” Dave grunts to the windshield. He jerks the wheel, parking hastily and diagonally in the first spot he sees. He slams the emergency break back and throws his seatbelt off, twisting in his seat toward the door. He’s going to run into the bathroom, maybe yell a bit, maybe just punch himself in the dick until it gives up.

“Dave, what the fuck? Are you okay? What the hell jutht happ-“

“Shut up.” He freezes, hand on the door latch.

“Fuck you. What’s wrong?”

His head jerks over his shoulder.

“I’m sick of watching you flirt and gyrate and fuck and ignore me.”

There’s a sharpness in the last two words that stings Sollux, makes him flush, makes him recoil.

“I wath unaware you were anything but “no homo.””

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, yeah, tho the whole hate-flirt thing with KK, but I figured you weren’t interethted in me.”

“Also bullshit. Just tell me you don’t want me so I can move on with my life and quit staring at your mouth.”

“That’th not-“

“Then what “ith?” I’m really sick of getting lead around for bourbon and free meals, dickwad. Give me straight talk or you’re walking home.”

“I-I- Fuck, Dave. Thith ith a bit thudden.”

“Just tell me you don’t want to be with me. Not that fucking hard.” Dave’s cool shell is cracking. He’s frowning deeply and twisted back to face Sollux, crossing his arms to protect his chest.

“Shut up fuckhead! No one ever thaid that wath true!”

“Then say the opposite. Also not difficult.”

“Fuck you, I’m thcared!”

“Scared of what?”

The cool is gone. Neither of them are okay. Dave’s teeth are gritted tight and he has a hand gripping the steering wheel with the other arm wrapped tight across his chest. Sollux is folding his lengthy frame against the door as tightly as he can manage. There is a silence.

“I’m thcared I’m going to hurt you or push you away. I’m thcared it will end and then I lothe you. I’m thcared to be another notch in your bedpotht. I’m thcared to end up like your latht girlfriend, who loved you and you didn’t love her back.”

Dave flinches, though Sollux isn’t sure if he did or not. They both feel raw and exposed. They don’t talk about feelings. That’s not how they work. But here the feelings are, in the middle seat, probably reading Eridan’s stupid texts.

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 4:36 --  
CA: hey sol  
CA: I wwas wwonderin if you wwere free tonight  
CA: no big deal or anyfin  
CA: just thought if wwould be nice to play some chess or somefin competitivve  
CA: rekindle that rivvalry an all  
CA: or not  
CA: you knoww wwhat  
CA: ill just get back to you later  
\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 4:47 --

Dave feels like he’s going to vomit. He’s absolutely out of his mind for Sollux at least 60% of the day. He cares about him more than he cares about himself usually, too. He’s never felt so drawn to anyone else in his life. And the kid doesn’t trust him. Dave closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting the burn he feels growing there.

“Dave, are you okay? Shit, thorry, I jutht- I-“  
“No, don’t. You’re fine. I’m… You’re fine.“  
“Dave, I really li-“  
“NO. No. Don’t. Don’t worry. Forget I fuckin brought it up. We’re just gonna go home.”

Dave wedges his back firmly into the seat, confident that he’s ruined everything forever. The ride home is silent. They would both kill to have the music back on, but neither is particularly willing to repeat what just happened. Almost simultaneous to the car parking, Dave flashsteps to the apartment door. Sollux sighs and unfolds himself. It’s going to be impossible to even see Dave for the next week, he knows. This is why they both speak exclusively in bullshit. This is why they don’t talk about feelings. They’re both inept and broken assholes who can handle a body deftly, but destroy the insides just as surely.

The middle of his face burns and he takes off his glasses to give it air. He reaches hesitant fingertips to the stereo dial, turns it on, and dials the volume down. He lets the modulations massage the tension from his shoulders. A screechy synth kisses his cheek and tells him something will work soon. Something hot falls down Sollux’s face, though he’ll deny it if you ask about it. Sharp teeth gnarl his bottom lip as bass tumbles through his chest. He has an idea and smiles.  
Sollux likes dubstep.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May or may not have had to a bit of booze research for this chapter...

A phone vibrates on the kitchen counter, ignored. It’s definitely John and Sollux definitely can’t be bothered to give a shit about Con Air at the moment. Needle fingers wrap around the neck of a bottle of Woodford. Thin lips are traced by an eager tongue.

A bony hand lovingly pours two generous rations of the fine bourbon; one into a waiting tumbler and another into a junky plastic cup from a kitschy restaurant in Dave’s hometown. Sollux scoops one into each hand before hazarding a journey down the narrow hall.

Unsure knuckles rap on Dave’s door, greeted by

“Fuck off. Working.”

“Motherfucking Woodford, bitch.”

“Try harder.”

“Dude, you can’t fucking top Woodford. But if you’re gonna be a thnob, I got thome Goothe, Malibu, Peach Schnappth, and Patron.”

Dave’s jaw falls agape. Where the hell did this money come from? Had he really saved up that much by having Dave buy booze all this time?

“Pleathe come out?”

A strawberry blonde mop pokes out.

“I’ll be starting off with my usual: peach schnapps-“

“On the rockth. I’ll go get it. Wanna thtart up Thuper Thmash?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Sollux flinches and wonders if this is going to work. He’d say it was unscrupulous, but so was Dave introducing him to Woodford bourbon to find out how trolls do sloppy makeouts, so he considers this even payback.

Coffee mug. Two ice cubes. Schnapps. Throw back own bourbon. Pour self a bigger glass.

Sollux slides the mug down the coffee table to Dave, who hasn’t turned the TV on. He blinks placidly at Sollux, not that Sollux can tell. The corner of his mouth twitches as the sack of wire hangers he calls a roommate curls itself into the furthest corner of the couch from him. He relishes the discomfort rolling off the taller boy in waves. He is a Strider and he is in control, as he should be. The schnapps is at his mouth and he sips slowly, relishing the syrup-sweet because he is a knight and knights don’t drink saccharine sweet fruity drinks.

“Dave, I-I… Can we talk about… thtuff?”

Something in Dave’s chest jolts before he feels a familiar barrier between them. That barrier is his savior.

“What thtuff is there to talk about? What, you want money back for the hooch?”

“No, Dave, I- No. The other day. In your truck.”

Dave takes a deeper gulp of the schnapps. He needs it if this is going to be another feelings talk. He downs the mug with a cough, smirking as the ice cubes attack his upper lip. He tucks a heel under himself, preparing to vault the couch back.

“Need more.”

“Dave, fuck!”

Sollux takes a sizeable swig of his bourbon and grabs Dave’s arm.

“Thit your athh down. We’re gonna have a fucking dithcussion, athh hole. What do you want, I’ll grab it.”

Dave shrugs his arm from the bony hand and neatly jumps the back of the couch.

“I don’t think I’ll want to move soon, so just bring the bottles and some glasses over here. I’ll save my pretty little maid some trouble.”

An indignant flush colors Sollux’s otherwise pasty face, but the logic is flawless. That said, the logistics of a tipsy boy carrying five bottles and as many cups are troubling. He stumbles a few times and only manages to drop plastic things. Largely, a success.

“Tho, the thtuff that happened in your truck-“

“Is over. Smash?”

“I-Wha? It ith?”

“Did you miss the part where I said “forget it?” That means it’s over.”

“Fuck you.”

“Missed your chance,” Dave grunts as he snatches at the remote. He pretends not to notice just how much Sollux has drunk and seems to intend on drinking. He pours himself some Malibu and decides that “over” isn’t enough. He wants to know if there’s a way to make the beautiful bastard pine the way he did. He wonders if he can replicate in Sollux the twin pains that plagued his chest and balls whenever he saw the flirtatious shit out with another man.

“Dave-,” the wire frame starts, taking another swig of liquid courage, “I really like you.”

“I scare you. You must be a twisted little fuck.”

“Shut up, I’m theriouth here!”

“I’d take you more seriously if you didn’t sound like a six year old who needs a nap.”

“Fuck off! Really! I’m really into you, but you’re thome detached, inthomniac, workaholic playboy who’th obthenely gorgeouth and thmart and funny and kind and noble and there ith no WAY I could detherve you and there’th nothing I could offer to keep you around and-“

“Shut up.”

The words are icy enough to freeze Sollux’s alcohol-lubricated jaw. He’s said too much. He’s fucked up. He pulls his feet towards himself, bracing his arms. He’s ready to run, ready to try to dodge the inevitable Strife that happens when you offend a Strider. He’s ready for a world of physical pain.

And then Dave doesn’t move.

And then Dave rises slowly. Sollux can’t remember ever seeing Dave move this slowly, though he can’t recall much right now. A deliberate hand snakes to the back of Sollux’s head and Dave leans close.

“Don’t you ever-“ he breathes at his captive’s lips, “ think there’s something you don’t deserve.”

And then Dave is gone. Once his skin stops tingling, Sollux realizes that, despite what his novels and movies have shown him, he wasn’t kissed just then. He is not currently engaged in passionate foreplay.

“D-Dave?” he warbles, unsure. He looks to the table and sees the Goose is gone. Well, fuck. At least, he’s pretty positive it’s the Goose that’s missing. Maybe the Patron, too. How many bottles had he bought? But Dave has left the Woodford, and that’s what’s important. He swigs from the bottle now, relishing the smooth taste and the sweet burn he feels slide lovingly down to his stomach. He focuses on the burn like it’s all there is in life and for just a moment, it is.  
Suddenly, feelings don’t seem so scary. Dave’s going to listen to him and he’s going to get his point across and nothing bad will happen.  
Sollux likes bourbon.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fivenal chapter. Also, the reason for the rating.

A phone vibrates on Dave’s bedside table, ignored. It’s definitely Sollux and Dave definitely can’t be bothered to give a shit about feelings when he has a goddamned bottle of Patron in front of him. He whips out his best Pride of Dallas shot glass and braces himself for a beautiful evening of oblivion and jewel heists. Strong fingers uncork the bottle. Usually pursed lips permit themselves a rare grin.

Until Dave hears a thump against his bedroom door. Apparently, the sloppy mess of hormones has found his way off the couch. Unperturbed, the Cool Kid pours himself a shot.

“Daaaave,” comes the low whine from outside his door. It’s almost a growl. A shiver skewers Dave from the base of his skull to his groin. Telling Sollux he didn’t want him anymore didn’t make it true. The opposite is true, in fact, and Dave fears that the bourbon-sloppy troll leaning on his door has him figured out.

“Daaave, I wanna taalk.”

“Fuck off. ‘S tequila time.” Dave curses himself for being tipsy enough to let his Texan roots show, but he really hasn’t been monitoring his drinking as closely as he usually does. Satisfied with the barrier of Door, Dave takes his shot, beautiful creature leaning on his door be damned. Abruptly, Dave finds his head swimming with images of said door-leaning creature. The kind, sweet, gentle, guarded creature that he, as a Knight, is obligated to protect. He has a duty to the half-blind prophet. He must keep him from harm. Damn, tequila is beautiful.

“Daave, I’m gonna butht thith door down, fuckerr.”

Christ, that lisp. Dave’s cheeks warm and isn’t sure how much of it is the alcohol. A vague thought asserts that his shirt is really warm, but he suppresses it because that definitely is the alcohol. A quiet click re-centers Dave’s thoughts and sends an icicle through his chest.

“You left the door unlocked for onthe, dude,” Sollux astutely observes. Jesus fuck, the kid is a Sloppopotamus.

Determined to maintain his cool, Dave pours himself another shot, raises it in his roommate’s direction, and slugs it back before feeling a sack of coat hangers against his chest, draping over his shoulder. Its arms wrap around him before he remembers that the sack is, in fact, Sollux. He makes a valiant effort to look peevish, but every inch of him is screaming for more contact, so he settles for stumbling a bit. That, too, may have just been the alcohol, though.

Sollux turns his face into Dave’s hair. With his left hand, he scratches gently between Dave’s shoulder blades. With his right, he holds desperately on to the left side of Dave’s ribs.

“Dave, I’m tho thorry I didn’t mean to hurt or thcare you I really care about you and I never want to lothe you I get tho jealouth when you bring thome thlut home and I have to hear how good you’re making her feel and I never hear you and fuck that’th creepy but god Dave you’re fantathtic and I’m tho fucking thorry I jutht wanted to die when you clothed off to me pleathe trutht me you can trutht me and I know you know becauthe you uthed to trutht me…”

Sollux continues by sheer force of will, but Dave is more amazed that he can simply make that many words all at once. Is this how a love confession is supposed to go? Movies dictate otherwise. They seem to think at least one party to be sober. Dave figures this is what happens more in real life, though.

“… and I think I’d kill thomeone jutht to thee you thmile at me-“

“Hush, Sollux,” Dave says, more gently than he realized he could. His voice is a low rumble, which seems to startle the kid from his rant. For the second time that night, Dave threads his hand into the hair on the back of Sollux’s head. He decides payback isn’t as important anymore when he has the kid he needs to protect almost literally dangling. “Do me a favor,” Dave purrs as he gently tugs Sollux’s head to meet his eyes.

“Anythiing. Fuckin anyth-“

“Stop hurting. It’s killin’ me.” He moves both hands to either of the shocked troll’s cheeks. He strokes the prominent cheekbones, regrets the bags under the eyes, mourns the hollows of his cheeks, and vows to make him eat more.

“D-Dave…?”Sollux hesitates. Bi-colored eyes behind bi-colored glasses explore Dave’s lenses, begging for a reason, praying to see through the glass.

“Shush,” Dave implores again, pushing forward to just touch his lips to the wreck in front of him. The entirety of his chest is filled with electricity and the last of his good sense is screaming at him to pull back, to slow down, to let Sollux adjust to the change as he savors the husky scent of bourbon.

Sollux’s head is screaming. No, this isn’t happening. You’ve already passed out, you fucking lightweight, he thinks, and this is a dream. Dave’s fingers are not melting into his hair. He can’t smell coconuts and peach and agave and alcohol on Dave’s breath. He’s not getting the faintest ghostings of kisses on his nonresponsive lips. But then, since this isn’t happening, he decides there’s no harm to kissing back. He risks a smile into the tender, imaginary lips and presses gently back against them. He takes the bottom lips between his own and gives it a gentle, tongueless suck. He takes a moment to commend his unconscious brain for conjuring up such constructions as these: soft, smooth, and supple, but with urgent muscle behind them. He rewards and challenges his brain by investigating its creation.

He tentatively flicks his tongue tip at the captive bottom lip and feels a jolt in the chest he clings to. Was that wrong? Is he waking up now? He hopes not. The fruity taste he’s dreamed up is intoxicating. Well, further intoxicating.

Good sense is ready to turn in for the night and who is Dave to keep it awake longer than it wants to be? His left fingers curl through Sollux’s choppy, black layers while his right ones curl loosely against the side of the troll’s neck. His tongue makes a reconnaissance sweep across an upper lip, investigating possible ways to retrieve its protector, bottom lip. It tastes like good bourbon and Burt’s Bees. But mostly good bourbon. A low and rumbling purr is his lip’s prison’s response. A tender suck gets a similar reaction and the release of his lip, though he’s not sure he wants it anymore. He realigns their lips, pressing them gently and squarely together. A wandering tongue slides at the crease between Dave’s lips, seeking refuge. It’s greeted and welcomed by its neighboring counterpart and, after some soft, teasing touches, they agree to a dance.

Taking cues from the imagi-tongue, Sollux decides to take away as much from this wet dream as he can, underwear consequences be damned. He scratches a trail from dream Dave’s ribs to his right hip, massaging the protruding ridge with his thumb. His left hand snarls itself in the so soft fake hair and gives the gentlest of tugs as he decides to taste the back of his creation’s teeth. This pulls out a quiet, hesitant “O-oh…,” delighting Sollux. No longer content with being gentle with his new favorite figment, Sollux yanks the hair to expose a smooth, suntanned, and freckled neck and steals a taste of it as he grinds his hips powerfully against what he can only imagine is the couch in real life.

Sollux forcefully rips a shout out of Dave’s chest. His knees weaken and the thought crosses his mind that, in this moment, he is not particularly knightly. He continues to groan and shudder through the onslaught on his neck before deciding he’s seen enough porn to know where this is going and half-tackles the grabby sack of coat hangers onto the bed.

“Oof,” Sollux grunts and, for the first time since he made it through the door, he begins to wonder if he is, in fact, not dreaming. Despite his fervent attempts to taste him fully, the freckles on Dave’s neck refuse to taste like cinnamon and he is pretty sure that was something that had happened to him in a dream before. Moreover, unless he’d just rolled off the couch and dragged all of his sleeping accoutrement with him, there is no real reason for him to feel that weight on top of him. For the first time since his hushing, he muddles together a sentence to speak.

“Dave? Ith thith real?”

Dave blinks, dumbfounded.

“Sollux, what color’re m’ eyes?”

“Thunglathheth. Your eyeth are thunglathh color.”

Dave laughs openly, a sure sign that he’s drunk beyond redemption, and his stomach lurches. Here goes nothing. With his left hand, he pushes his shades to the top of his head and Sollux blinks in gormless, slackjawed awe.  
“Th-they’re red…”

“What color’d you think they were?”

“Already thaid. Thunglathh.”

Another laugh from Dave, then he crudely rolls his hips against the set pinned below him.

“So, izzis real enough yet?”

“F-ff-ffffuck! De-dependth. Are you thtill mad at me?”

“Ye…ish? Not really? Not enough t’ give’ shit when you’re actually givin’ me th’ time a day.”

Sollux winces. “Yeah, that’th guilt. Thith ith real.”

“So c’n I keep goin’ now?” Dave breathes hotly into Sollux’s ear.

“O-ohhh… Do whatever you want. I’m fuckin yourth.”

Another chill rips through Dave and his tongue traces the shell of Sollux’s ear, hunting for the spots that make the troll’s breath hitch.

“’M gonna hold ya to that in th’ mornin’,” he drawls into the ear, darting his tongue behind it and shoving Sollux’s shirt off to punctuate his statement. Claws dig in deliciously to the middle of his back as he starts to leave a sloppy trail from ear to ribs. Here, he stops, curious. He lavishes the thin skin with kisses, bites, and sucks and leaves behind all manner of marks while the beautiful coat hanger creature writhes and yelps under him. The delicious noises, coupled with a bit of gratuitous friction from a flailing thigh draw Dave’s attention back to the miserably unattended straining in his pants. He notices a particularly firm pressure against his stomach and smirks into Sollux’s ribs as he realizes the feeling is mutual.

Sollux can’t find where he put the air. Just when he manages to gasp some in, Dave’s mouth stumbles upon the ridge of Sollux’s hip and he’s done. Breathing is no longer an option. He’s choking, squeaking, curling toes.

“D-D-Da-Daaave,” he whines.

Dave pauses and looks up, brows furrowed in open concern. Sollux chokes on the honesty in the red eyes.

“Wha’s wrong, babe?” Dave pleads from just below Sollux’s belly button. The casual slip of a pet name sends a thrill through Sollux’s gut.

“I wanna make you feel good. Thcoot up here.” Puzzled, Dave obeys, getting shoved onto his back. His wiry roommate wraps himself around his side. Sollux lazily laps at his ear and murmurs, “You’re a good little knight, but thometimeth you should let otherth take care of you.” Dave’s head is reeling and his back is arching. There’s lightning crashing up and down his spine with hot breath and every tongue flick. “Altho, you’re not nearly naked enough.”

Sollux slides himself down Dave’s side, settling along his leg. He begins to fumble with the deceptively contrary button at Dave’s fly as Dave shucks his own shirt to fill his bedmate’s nakedness quotient. Sollux pauses his miserable fumblings to stare hungrily at Dave’s torso. He leaves one hand to fight the good fight at his knight’s crotch while its twin scratches gently down Dave’s side and his mouth bites and sucks at whatever bit of skin it falls over. Dave pants and whimpers, but makes no sound that Sollux thinks someone else hasn’t made him make before. This is unsatisfactory. He craves the shout he heard earlier. Finally, the offensive button yields and Sollux tears the zipper down and crudely tugs Dave’s jeans off. The muscles around Dave’s navel twitch in anticipation and Sollux smirks, thinking he may get it out of Dave yet. Eager to build anticipation in his partner, Sollux pauses to remove his own pants, bracing a hand on Dave’s thigh. His bulge is screaming at him, begging for a hand or a mouth or something, anything. Out of his pants, it stands angrily, demanding someone’s attention. Sollux tries to ignore it, focusing on the fact that Dave’s human-bulge is doing the same. He settles himself between Dave’s legs and slides his hands slowly up from the knees. Dave’s breath catches as he glances down at the wicked face between his legs. Slowly but surely, Sollux’s hands make their way up the thighs, massaging with nimble thumbs along the way, under Dave’s boxers, through the waistband, to stop at Dave’s hipbones. The human shudders at the tease and lets out a low whine.

Still as slow and deliberate, Sollux lightly rakes his claws back down Dave’s thighs, to his knees. Dave quivers, whimpering, breaking to a yelp as the claws cross the sensitive skin high on his thighs. His breath is coming in shuddery gasps. Just as cautiously as before, Sollux slides a long, elegant hand over Dave’s clothed human-bulge and begins massaging. This earns him a low moan, but it’s not enough. Sollux ducks his hand in through the fly and wraps it around the swollen member straining to be released inside, sliding around it for a few strokes. Dave seems to choke now, making a coughing sort of mewl— a half-grunt. Tired of any pretense of game-playing he’d had before, Sollux harshly tugs Dave’s boxers down and plants a flat-tongued lick on the underside of Dave’s cock, from root to tip. A loud moan is torn from Dave and an encouraged Sollux begins planting sloppy, tongue-led kisses all over his new favorite body part. Thin lips make a questioning suck on the tip and a freckled hand flies to his hair.

“S-Soolluuux, yer killin’ meee,” the freckle-owner groans, trying desperately to keep his hips restrained.

Sollux frowns at the apparent restraint, but takes the cock back between his lips, sliding them slowly and carefully down, making lazy back-to-forth swipes with his tongue on the way down. Dave seems to have a gasp caught in his throat, unable to inhale or exhale. He twists his fingers in Sollux’s hair, face reddening. Sollux’s lips find themselves finally at Dave’s base, though not comfortably, so he decides not to linger, sliding them back off with a hard suck. Dave lets out a strangled yell and, deep in his brain, a miniscule cluster of cells not focused on his dick is duly impressed with what Sollux just managed.  
Sollux begins to slide his mouth around Dave more quickly and more shallowly, comforting the rest of the shaft with his right hand. Shifting his knees closer to his center, Sollux shift his weight and caresses Dave’s sac with his freed hand.

“Gah, fuck, FUCK Sol shit!” A twitch, then a single thrust before Dave lets go and makes short, small thrusts in tandem with Sollux’s mouth. Sollux’s eyebrows slide up his forehead in surprise, though it’s nothing he can’t handle. His right grip tightens a bit and Dave’s breathing becomes hitched and irregular. “Shit, babe. Real close. G-gonna… fuck!” Dave bites the hand not caught in Sollux’s hair, before shouting at his release. Sollux makes a half-assed attempt to swallow the genetic material, but his reactions are delayed and a good portion has already slid from his mouth.

Sollux crawls lazily back up to Dave, accepting a sloppy kiss. Dave curls into Sollux, nestling his head into the troll’s neck as he dispatches his hand to return the favor just granted him. Despite his alcohol- and orgasm- induced sluggishness, the flashstep master still manages to keep a quick pace, pumping desperately at Sollux’s bulge. Sollux is a melting, moaning mess, making no effort to be quiet. He breaks pace to lick lazily across his palm, tormenting his gray beauty, only to return with enthusiasm and lubrication anew. “Hnn, Da-Dave I-I can’t, I-I-“ Dave purrs a “hush” below Sollux’s ear and it tips Sollux over the edge, gushing genetic material in a quantity Dave thinks unreal and surely excessive. It is a sticky, unadulterated mess. And they are hammered beyond consideration.

So they leave it and the feelings talk for the morning. For now, Sollux snakes his arms around the impossible, freckled asshole that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with. But that could be the alcohol talking. At the very least, Sollux knows that  
Sollux likes Dave Strider.


End file.
